


Best Laid Plans

by sachantquiladesailes_98



Series: Misunderstandings in Piffling [2]
Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachantquiladesailes_98/pseuds/sachantquiladesailes_98
Summary: First dates are hard for everybody- even Eric Chapman. They're nigh impossible for Antigone Funn. As long as there's torte at the end of it, everything will be okay though... right?
Relationships: Eric Chapman/Antigone Funn
Series: Misunderstandings in Piffling [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593379
Comments: 17
Kudos: 23





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> This is SOOO much later than it was supposed to be. It was a lot harder to write from Chapman's perspective than I anticipated- maybe because we know so little about him? maybe because he's Mr. Perfect? idk guys... but it was hard. I feel like it's slightly OOC... but it kinda has to be... since they're on a date... so....
> 
> This is due to a suggestion from 1oooW0rds on the first part of this series. So... you know who to blame if it's bad haha. Jk. I hope this is at least kinda close to what you were thinking of, and I'm sorry for how late it is.
> 
> Any other suggestions are welcome! I promise to at least try every single one. :)
> 
> All bizarre dating advice is courtesy of Georgie Crusoe, as detailed in Season 1 Episode 5:"She Stoops to Conquer".
> 
> (ALSO, don't hear what I'm not saying: there is nothing wrong with Antigone changing her appearance in itself. I was intending to convey that she did it for the wrong reasons and wasn't "enjoying herself". I hope that came across.)

The day after the first dreadful Christmas dinner that Eric had had at the Funn’s house, he had been awoken abruptly by a thunderous pounding on his door. He had been instantly alert and poised for action, unable to imagine who in Piffling Vale would be aggressively summoning him over the holidays. He had crept carefully towards the door, cataloguing the exits and possible weapons in his general vicinity, when the perpetrator of the pounding had spoken- well, hollered, to be more accurate.

“Oy! Eric! Open the door, it’s bloody freezing out here!”

Eric had briefly considered forbidding Georgie entry into his warm home, as she had barred him from the vicarage the night before, but he had been genuinely afraid of any retaliation from her. 

He had opened the door just as she was about to pound on it again and the forward momentum had sent her stumbling through the open door and into him. He had caught her arms and steadied her, then reached behind her to seal the door closed again. “Good morning Georgie. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He had turned to find her critically appraising his sleep wear. “Nice pyjamas,” she had said with a rather unnecessary amount of sarcasm Eric had thought.

He had only sighed though and turned towards his café. “I’m going to make myself a latte. Want anything?”

“Nah, I can’t stay. I promised to help Antigone clean up the mess you and Rudyard made yesterday. I was just bringing you something.”

Eric had felt a pang of guilt thinking of Georgie and Antigone cleaning up the large and frankly disgusting mess he and Rudyard had made the night before. He had turned back towards Georgie and was about to offer his help, when she had held up her hand and said. “If you come over two days in a row, Rudyard might actually lose his mind… Antigone too... come to think of it, I wouldn’t be pleased either… yeah… just don’t come over.”

Eric had bit back the multitude of retorts that sprang to mind and took refuge in the one thing that always seemed to serve him well when talking to anyone from Funn Funerals. “Right….”

“Anyway,” Georgie had reached into her coat pocket and thrust an impeccably wrapped gift at him, “this is for you since you know, I didn’t get you anything and you got me something nice.”

“Oh! Well, I appreciate the gesture, but you didn’t have t-”

“Yeah, I know. ‘Course I know I didn’t have ta. I don’t owe you anything. It’s not even very nice. Just,” she had sighed, clearly aggravated, “just take the bloody gift and shut up, yeah?”

“I see,” Eric had hesitatingly taken the gift from her. “Do you… want me to open it now? Or?”

“I don’t care what you do... Like ever… I have not once cared about anything you-”

“Yes, thank you!” Eric had cut in, annoyed. “I understand the message you are conveying.”

“Good. Alright. See ya ‘round then!”

“Wait!” Eric had hurried forward and caught her arm, releasing it immediately at the murderous glare she had given him. “I wanted to ask you, that is to say, I was wondering if- or no- I was wondering  _ why _ , I mean, I don’t really know how to phrase this delicately. I just-”

She had interrupted him impatiently. “Just spit it out!”

“Do you think the Funns like me?” They weren’t the words Eric had intended on saying, but it was a question he wanted answered nonetheless and so he let it stand.

Georgie had paused, cocking her head at him. “Do… do  _ you  _ think they like you?”

“Well, I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!”

Georgie had appraised him for a second before shaking her head in apparent wonderment. “You really are something else, you know that?” Before he could answer, she continued, “No, they don’t like you. At least, not much. Enough to invite you over for Christmas so  _ that’s _ something… I mean, they didn’t really invite you cause they liked you or anything. More ‘cause they felt sorry for you. But still… it’s something.”

“Right… well, thanks for your… honesty.” Eric had answered dryly, ignoring the stab of loneliness her frank words had elicited. 

“Right-o!” Georgie had turned to go again, while Eric had shook his head and muttered under his breath, “I’m not sure why I want them to like me so much anyway.”

She had turned without missing a beat. “It’s ‘cause they’re real. It took me a while to figure it out too, but that’s it. Especially here on this island full of people who care so much what everyone thinks… they just don’t. Rudyard doesn’t believe in changing who he is for anybody and Antigone doesn’t know how. If they talk to you, it’s cause they want to. If they tell you something, it’s what they really think. It’s refreshing. They’re the only people I’ve ever met who are just themselves… no holds barred, no pretensions, no masks. And sure, it makes them tactless and socially awkward and disaster-prone, but... it’s better than fake. Besides, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that normality is overrated anyways.” She had grinned at him and turned on her heel. “At least, that’s what I think. It’s always possible that you just have a repressed crush on Rudyard.”

He thinks of that conversation now as he crosses the village square to meet Antigone for what she’s been calling their first “real” date, since apparently none of the time they had spent before counted. At the time, fresh off the disastrous Christmas meal, with his hair still smelling of gravy and his shoes permanently ruined, he hadn’t given Georgie’s words much thought. But they had stuck with him as, against all odds, he had forged an unlikely bond with the only people in the village who had not even wanted him there in the first place. 

The Funns were real. Antigone was real. She wouldn’t go out with him if she didn’t want to, and she was incapable of the pretense that made first dates so often tiresome. Of course, by the same token, she was incapable of concealing her emotions or thoughts- not even for the sake of politeness. If she hated the date or if she changed her mind about him, he would know instantly. And it's terrifying. He’s quite certain he’s going to screw it up, and he’ll be devastated if he does.

Because it wasn’t really a first date. Or at least, not a normal one. Normally, on a first date, he doesn’t know enough about the person to be as invested as he currently is. He usually knew just enough to think, “huh, I might enjoy spending some time with this person” or even just “she’s quite attractive”, and so, if it didn’t work out, he could bounce back pretty fast. 

But as far as he is concerned, he’s been dating Antigone for a while now. And he likes her. He really likes her. She looks at the world in a way nobody else he knows does, she expects nothing from him that he cannot give her, and does not pretend to be anything other than who she is. She has a quiet, razor-sharp wit and acknowledges death for the breathtaking, fearsome, encompassing entity that it is. He hadn’t found her very attractive at all for a long time, but he can’t imagine why now. How had he overlooked the depth of her eyes and the unexpected delight of her smile? How had he not noticed how very charming the blush that sometimes crawled up her cheeks was or the way her eyes lit up when she was passionate about something? He’s not too proud to admit that if this date flops even half as spectacularly as his with Georgie, he’ll be rather broken up about it. Of course, part of the reason the date with Georgie had been so catastrophic was-

As if summoned by his mental tangent, the door to Funn Funerals is thrown open and Rudyard steps out of it, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, glowering as Eric approaches.

“Evening, Rudyard.” Eric smiles brightly at Rudyard as he scans for Madeleine and any recording objects that may or may not be attached to her. 

“Chapman.” Rudyard bites out.

It’s quiet for a moment as Rudyard scowls ineffectually and Eric frantically scrutinizes every small brown lump he sees like some bizarre game of Where’s Wally?. Finally, Rudyard uncrosses his arms and puts his hands on his hips, allowing Eric to see Madeleine carefully contained in his shirt pocket and seemingly free of anything unusual. 

Rudyard marks his gaze and scoffs sullenly. “Antigone forbade me from interfering.”

Eric can’t help but grin a little at that. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I was going to ignore her,” Rudyard continues animatedly, “but she threatened to sic Georgie on me if I didn’t comply!”

Eric’s smile fades and he looks around uneasily. “Is she… here?”

Again, as if summoned, Georgie materializes behind Rudyard and Eric jumps a foot in the air. “Ahh! Dear God! Don’t  _ do  _ that!”

She smiles softly at him and beckons him closer. When he does not immediately move, she shoves Rudyard out of the way and tugs him closer. “What I’ll do to Rudyard if he chooses to get involved tonight doesn’t even begin to touch what I’ll do to you if you hurt her. I know you’ve got a wide array of skills and a mysterious past, but I’ve got a scrappy intuitiveness and a knack for succeeding at anything I set my mind to, coupled with enough goodwill in Piffling Vale to get away with what Rudyard couldn’t. You get me?”

Eric gulps audibly. “Y-yes. I understand you perfectly.”

“Good.” Georgie smiles softly again, and it is the most frightening thing he’s ever seen. “Just remember before you do anything at all concerning her that I’m  _ great  _ at dismembering and disposing of bodies.” 

Abruptly, her smile vanishes and her usual brash manner is restored. “Right! Well, g’night Rudyard. I highly suggest you give me no reason to return before my shift tomorrow- for your sake that is. I’m not actually opposed to it. I’m  _ great  _ at hurting nosy, disrespectful brothers of my friends.” With these cheery words, she brushes past both of the speechless men and marches off into the early evening.

After a moment, Eric breaks the stunned silence she left in her wake. “I completely understand and agree with your decision not to tangle with her.”

“Exactly!” Rudyard says emphatically, turning to walk back into his house. “Remember what happened with STIFFD?”

“I didn’t even see what happened, I was too busy slowly dying in the bathroom,” Eric adds, following after him, “I only saw the aftermath, and that… that was enough.”

“I did see it and it was… there are no words. Like watching an animal mauling in real life. Just….” Rudyard breaks off and shudders at the memory, and Eric nods solemnly in agreement. Suddenly, their moment of camaraderie is broken as Rudyard seems to remember himself.

He looks around as if surprised to find them both somehow in his house and, no doubt concluding that this was, as all things must be, Eric’s fault, glares balefully at him and hisses “Chapman!” in that distinct way that only Rudyard seems capable of producing.

“Yes, Rudyard?” He inquires, unable (or perhaps more accurately, unwilling) to resist egging him on. “What exactly is it that you require from me?”

Unbelievably, Rudyard’s glare intensifies. “Now look here! This is all happening entirely against my wishes. You have managed to get everything and everyone on this island- but there is one thing you shall never have!” Rudyard stops abruptly and glares at him.

“Umm… am I supposed to-”

“My blessing!! You shall never have my blessing! I am my sister’s guardian and I have given no consent to your pursuit of her!”

“Right….” Eric is saved from further interaction with Rudyard by the sound of a voice ringing out behind him. 

“Nobody cares about your blessing, Rudyard. I am a grown woman and I don’t need your consent. Now, do I need to call Georgie or…?” The threat hangs in the air for a moment, before Rudyard swallows heavily and sulks off towards the kitchen.

Eric turns and gives a heavy swallow himself at the sight of Antigone coming down the stairs. “Oh, wow,” he says, before his brain can catch up with his runaway mouth.

She freezes in her descent. “What? Did I do it wrong? Georgie helped me so blame her!” She turns to go back up the stairs, but her insanely high heel slides off the step and she stumbles down them into him instead.

“Oof!” The motion knocks the air out of him, giving him a few moments to think of how he should respond. It wasn’t that she looked… bad, per se. Just… different. Her hair was pinned up tightly, her face was heavily made up, her dress looked difficult to breathe in and the heels seem to be a genuine safety concern. She looked good of course! But she seemed just... unnatural and terribly uncomfortable. He couldn’t imagine what Georgie had been thinking by throwing her in the virtual deep end. Of course, Georgie was smarter than him and full of frankly terrifying threats….

“You look wonderful!” Eric blurts loudly, his voice tight and his smile strained. 

“Okay. Well… good.” Antigone responds, her discomfort equally evident and her eyes fixed on her closed mortuary door, filled with transparent longing.

“So…,” Eric swallows and offers her his arm, “shall we?”

The date hasn't been… bad. Just… different. It's becoming the theme of the evening. Apparently, when it comes to Antigone, the key to effortless conversation and relaxed company is in her not realizing the extent of the relationship. 

He’d pulled out her chair when they first got to the restaurant and she’d kind of… slunk? towards it, and then tripped on her heels and collapsed into the chair, nearly tugging the tablecloth to the ground in the process. When he’d made a frankly lame joke about it, she’d given this hoarse, slightly deranged sounding cackle. 

Since then, she had been sitting stiffly in almost the exact same position, picking sporadically at her meal and taking increasingly shallow breaths. He was genuinely concerned about her health, but she responded to his concern with that same horrifying laugh. The thing is, Eric knows what her actual laugh sounds like. It's also kind of frightening, but it's a comforting sort of frightening, because it's hers and it's genuine. He doesn't know what this is, or what it means, and that has him on edge.

It's not just the laughing either. She’d been acting strangely all meal. And again, not comforting Antigone strange, but frightening and unsettling strange. He didn’t think she’d broken eye contact even once nor let her strained smile slip, even when she was laughing. Also, she kept asking him questions that she knew the answers to!

Like, when they’d first sat down, she’d been all, “Sooo, Eric (she’s been saying his name with a creepy, singsong cadence too), what do you do for a living, Eric?”

He had thought she was joking, so he laughed a little, joined by her own… unique… chuckle. But then, she’d smiled even more… intensely… at him and repeated the question! He’d answered her because what on earth was he supposed to do? Then she’d asked him, whether he, Eric, enjoyed his job, Eric?, whether he, Eric, had many friends in Piffling, Eric?, whether he, Eric, had any pets, Eric? and whether he, Eric, spent the majority of his time surrounded by people or alone… Eric? (She seemed to be concerned that one or the other of them might forget his given name). 

There were other questions- the questions were virtually non-stop, accompanied by a laugh no matter what answer he gave- but these ones stuck out, because he couldn’t help thinking that these were the things a murderer or kidnapper might want to know about their victim. It’s awful, he knows, but on his ongoing list of potential murderers or kidnappers in Piffling Vale, Antigone does rank quite highly! 

He had worried that the date might go poorly because of something he did… it had not entered his darkest dreams that his date might turn out to be murderous or at the very least unbalanced. He genuinely can’t imagine a worse situation.

And then, as if God himself had felt compelled to accept this challenge, the members of the Village Council walk through the door.

Des spots them immediately and trundles over to their table.

“Eric!” The mayor’s hearty voice precedes his approach and Antigone whirls to see the assembled members gathered at the door behind her. Her face noticeably pales, and he wants to ask her if she’s alright, but Des has reached their table.

“Good evening Eric and…” the mayor’s voice trails off as he turns to Antigone, “Eric’s friend… I’m sorry, Madam, I don’t believe I know you. I am Desmond Desmond, the mayor of this humble village, though I flatter myself in believing that we are on the very cusp of townhood, do you not agree?”

In the face of Antigone’s bewilderment, Eric jumps in. “Des, it’s Antigone. You know her.”

“Nooooooooo?” The mayor responds incredulously. “I  _ do  _ know Antigone.  _ This  _ is not Antigone. She’s pale and thin and quite morbid.” He turns confidingly towards Antigone to continue, “Tried to kill us all with chocolate not that long ago. A very strange-”

“Des!” Eric interrupts in a vain attempt to salvage what is shaping up to be the most awkward conversation he’s had since moving to Piffling Vale (which, considering all that Rudyard is, is actually unbelievable), “this  _ is  _ Antigone! She’s just dressed a little differently. But it  _ is  _ her.” 

“Is it?” The mayor peers at Antigone for a solid minute, before murmuring confusedly, “Well, if you say so. I don’t always know these things, I am usually kept very busy, you see, Madam…?” His voice trails off into a question and Eric blurts loudly.

“Antigone! Her name is Antigone… and we  _ are  _ on a private outing right now, so…”

“Oh! Should we be looking forward to another joint funeral? That last one was so much fun! I was a particular fan of the wrestling match between Nige and the pale, tall, other one. I was cheering him on. Nige, that is. I must admit that I was hoping he would sock the other one right in the nose!” 

The mayor smiles at the memory and Eric bites back a sigh at Antigone’s annoyed bewilderment. Rudyard and him had agreed that certain features of the joint funeral would be kept to themselves, and he is not relishing having to explain the fight Rudyard had gotten into with Nigel over the order of the ceremony.

“No,” he clarifies. “We are on a  _ personal  _ private outing. Remember? I told you that Antigone and I were going to pursue a romantic relationship? I told you this at the joint funeral?”

“Really??” The mayor asks skeptically. “But…,” he turns to scrutinize Antigone again, “why?”

“I… what?” Eric is rather at a loss for words, but at that moment, the mayor is called back over by the Village Council and he trundles off again before Eric can manage a response.

“That was…” Eric starts, but she loudly interrupts him. “I have to go to the bathroom!”

“Oh! Umm… yes of course. Should I order dessert?”

“No.” She says shortly. She is attempting to get up but, either as a result of the heels, the tight dress or the way she had fallen into the chair (or perhaps all three), is evidently finding it difficult. He pushes back his chair and hurries to help her up, relieved by her return to her usual manner. 

Since apparently his thoughts have summoning powers that he is unaware of, she chooses that moment to slide her hand along his chest and give that same disturbing laugh again. “Thank you, Eric. I am going to the bathroom now, Eric. Do you often go the bathroom, Eric?”

“Uhhh… yes?” He ventures cautiously.

She laughs again. “Well, Eric, I will be thinking… of…”

He can feel his eyes widen at the direction this conversation is going and Antigone stops abruptly, flushing. Evidently deciding there is nothing she could say to salvage it, she turns abruptly on her heel and resumes slinking off in the direction of the bathroom.

Eric collapses into his seat at her departure and buries his face in his hands with a muffled groan. This date was not going the way he had hoped, or even the way he had expected, and he couldn’t understand why!

“Penny for your thoughts?” A familiar voice breaks into his confusion and he lifts his head to see Vivienne perched across from him. “Are you regretting your brief lapse of sanity? Because I will forgive you with only a mild amount of condescension.” She giggles at her joke, and the similarities between it and Antigone’s own odd laugh strike him.

“Hello, Vivienne. I’m actually on a date right now, so…”

“Oh yes. We saw. How is that going, then? Because, I won’t lie, from my viewpoint, it does not seem to be going well.”

Eric sighs. “I don’t- it… it’s fine.”

“Is it?” Vivienne arches her eyebrow in that coy way of hers and Eric rolls his eyes fondly.

“Alright, fine. It may leave a  _ bit  _ to be desired.”

“That’s what you get,” Vivienne sniffs, “when you abandon me for the likes of Antigone Funn. I will not lie, the insult is difficult to swallow.”

Eric rolls his eyes again, less fondly this time. “It’s not an insult, Vivienne. I  _ like  _ Antigone. It has nothing to do with you. I  _ wanted  _ to go out with her. For no other reason than that I like her.”

“So I repeat, how is that going for you?”

Eric groans. “It’s a disaster,” he blurts. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

Vivienne startles at his admission and then cocks her head, peering at him. “You really do like her, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Eric asserts in exasperation. “It has nothing to do with you!”

Vivienne softens at that. “Well, what you have to remember is that Antigone isn’t really normal or used to normal things, so it’s not fair of you to expect that from her.”

“No, I know! I’m not trying to! I just… somehow she continues to surprise me with how… just plain  _ weird  _ she is.”

Vivienne rolls her eyes at him now. “Well, what on earth did you expect? If you wanted normality, perhaps you should have swallowed your pride enough to give me a free funeral!” 

Eric groans again, pressing his hands against his eyes and bemoaning his very existence. When he pulls them away, Vivienne is looking in worried shock over his shoulder, and he whips around just in time to see Antigone tottering out the restaurant’s front door.

“What on earth…” he starts, rising from his chair and scrambling for his wallet. He flings far too much money on the table and, after giving Vivienne a distracted farewell, charges out the door in pursuit of Antigone who has clearly given up on the heels and is holding them in one hand and marching along the sidewalk in her bare feet.

“Antigone? Antigone, wait!” He jogs after her, attempting to decipher whether she is angry at him or just displaying the usual level of social grace he has come to expect from a Funn.

“Antigone, for God’s sake, would you just-” He catches up to her and grabs her arm to halt her march. With barely a pause, she yanks it from his grasp, turns her head firmly away from him and crosses to the other side of the street. 

He’s rather confident that she is, in fact, for whatever reason, quite angry with him.

He sighs loudly, and briefly debates marching home himself. He could just walk away and to hell with all the Funns and their bizarre and inexplicable behaviour! He had been managing just fine before. Sure he was a bit bored and lonely, but nobody was abandoning him with barmy hermits or yelling at him for trying to help or leaving dates early and publicly! He could just leave right now and spare himself all of the trouble he’s sure he will have to learn to accomodate in his life. 

He already knows he won’t though, and before he has finished thinking it, he’s jogged ahead of Antigone and turned around to place his hands against her shoulders, proving a more effective halt to her progress. She could, of course, kick him and storm off still… but she doesn’t. She crosses her arms and glares even more balefully than usual, but she doesn’t leave.

Eric sighs again, before adopting the most measured voice he can and asking, “May I ask what has prompted this precipitate flight from what I thought was a lovely evening?”

She snorts audibly at that.

Eric bites back another sigh and resumes speaking, his voice a little more strained, but, he prides himself in thinking, still eminently reasonable. “Did you  _ not  _ think it was a lovely evening?”

She snorts again and rolls her eyes.

He snaps.

“Oh, for God’s sake Antigone! I am trying very hard to be the adult here- since that’s far too much to expect of _you_ - and you are making it very difficult! I cannot read minds- and even if I could, no human being alive would stand a chance with yours!”

She colours at that, and straightens imperiously. “Of course, because I am so  _ weird!  _ Well, let me disabuse you of the notion that I care a bit what you think of me! I may be weird, but at least I’m not…” She trails off, looking him over in scorn, and he can’t tell whether she can’t think of a word with which to accuse him, or whether there are too many that come to mind for her to properly express them.

Either way, he is given no time to defend himself, as she resumes, rather unnecessarily vehemently he feels, given the subject. “When I was a child, I spent nearly all of my time in the mortuary. Of course, I had to go to school, and interact with my family more back then, but I still preferred to be wrapped in my mortuary's safe shadows, securely ensconced from the complex minutiae of a life I was never going to succeed at.”

“Right…” Eric is more than bewildered by this apparently non-related sequitur, but he supposes anything is better than her storming away from him again. “You miss your mortuary, then? Or do you mean…” His own voice trails off into silence at the furious glare she is leveling at him again.

He swallows, and smiles tentatively in response. Her glare lessens a small bit, only noticeable to someone as adept in reading Antigone Funn as he has become, and he breathes a secret sigh of relief. “Do continue. I will not interrupt again.”

After she glares at him for a few more seconds, she finally does. “My  _ point  _ is that I developed an extremely keen sense of hearing so that I could hear my name being called even from the mortuary. And that keen sense has never left me, despite it being no longer necessary. I can hear what is happening in any room of my house from any other room in my house. I can hear Georgie berating Rudyard from the other side of a funeral. I can hear Herbert snoring in his projector room while I am watching my movies. Christ alive, I can hear a conversation happening across a restaurant!” 

Her voice had grown slightly more animated during this diatribe of her hearing capabilities and Eric had just thought that perhaps he should duck for cover, when her palm connected with his cheek.

It hurt. Far more than he expected it to. Most of the women he had encountered in his eventful life would hit people more as a matter of course than with the intention to actually wound them, but of course Antigone was not like any other woman he knew and he is relatively certain that there is currently the trace of a handprint, however faint, on his cheek.

He’d covered the cheek with his own hand, and opened his mouth to attempt to defend himself from what he felt was a largely uncalled for assault when she interrupted him. “I heard you! You and your precious Lady Templar discussing your downgrade in choice of evening companion!”

Eric recovers himself enough to reach for her again. “Antigone-”

She shoves him hard, even while holding her impractical heels, enough that he takes a couple steps back with the force of it. “You called me  _ weird.”  _ Her voice wavers a little on the word for a moment, and then she straightens her spine and turns decisively away from him. “This was clearly a bad idea, so let me save you the trouble of saying so. Good night, Chapman.” So saying, she marches off in the direction of the village square again.

Eric is conflicted. He’s sure that he’ll hear that vulnerable, accusatory sentence echo in his head for a long time and he feels bloody awful about it, and yet… he is right royally pissed off. 

“Would you please stop trying to dump yourself for me every other day?! If you don’t want this, then have the decency to say so yourself, and if you do, then at least give me a chance to explain!” He hollers the words after her, and at “decency”, she whirls around and marches back to him.

“Explain?” She hisses, stabbing his chest with her finger, which he belatedly realizes is painted a garish pink. “Is this what a relationship is?  _ You  _ get to insult me to your friends, to the last woman you were interested in romantically, and I must grin and bear it and ask you politely after the fact to  _ explain _ ?!”

“Well, you certainly don’t get to march out of the restaurant with no explanation!” He snaps back.

“CHRIST! Fine. Fine! You want an explanation? I was  _ embarrassed _ . I was embarrassed for me and I was embarrassed for you, who clearly had no recourse for either the shock of the mayor or the blatant disapproval of dear  _ Vivienne. _ I thought… I thought you would realize the difficulties of this- I  _ tried  _ to explain them to you. I  _ told  _ you that I didn’t fit in, I  _ told  _ you that people didn’t like me, I tried to make it clear that your friends would not approve. I thought… I thought that you were prepared for it. And you weren’t! You were clearly uncomfortable all night!”

“Me?? You can’t even seem to walk normally or take a full breath- to say nothing of your dull conversation and horrifying laugh!”

“I was  _ flirting! _ ”

He’s briefly taken aback, but he barely misses a beat. “Not in any way that I have ever seen!” 

Her eyes narrow. “Yes, well, we’ve established that. I’m weird, and you can take your professions of “refreshing and unique and wonderful” and shove them-”

“Oh, for God’s sake! Look, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, but you’re being wildly unfair. I was attempting to get my thoughts in order and I asked a friend for help- a friend who, let me remind you, approached _me._ Could I probably have handled a lot of situations better tonight? Yes, no doubt I could have, but excuse me for being nervous!”

She snorts again. “What do you have to be nervous about?”

“Um, I don’t know, the date we were on?” he says incredulously.

“Oh please, you’re Eric Chapman, you’ve been on many dates.”

“Exactly! I have been on good dates and I have been on  _ very  _ bad ones. So I was nervous, because, believe it or not, this isn’t exactly how I wanted the night to end! I was more nervous than I think I’ve ever been before a first date, so if I behaved-”

“Why?” She interrupts him loudly.

“Why??” He repeats with even more incredulity. “Because I like you! I really like you! I don’t know why you’re determined to believe otherwise, but I do, okay? I genuinely like you.” He groans at the shocked expression on her face. “Clearly you weren’t eavesdropping on that part of the conversation,” he mutters under his breath.

He doesn’t know what else to say now, and so he says nothing. They stand in the middle of the sidewalk, the noise of the restaurant behind them a dull background, and stare at one another in silence. They had grown quite close during their argument, and he searches her eyes for any sort of clue as to how she is feeling. Finding nothing beyond shock and what might be indifference, he sighs and turns away. He knew he couldn’t do this. “Best laid plans,” he murmurs and heads off towards the direction of their homes himself, hoping she’ll fall into step with him, even as he thinks it more likely that she might hit him again.

She does neither. Instead, Antigone Funn, always full of surprises, grabs his arm, turns him back towards her and presses her lips against his. 

He’s gotten better at learning to just roll with things, and it takes him less than a minute to reciprocate. As much as he can, he buries his hands in her hair, tugs her closer to him, and kisses her for what feels like hours, but is likely only a few moments. 

She pulls away first, falling back onto her heels and grimacing slightly. “Sorry. That was weird again, wasn’t it? I just… I like you too. I didn’t know if you knew.”

He smiles wryly. “I’m certainly not complaining.”

She is quiet for a minute, running her fingers aimlessly over the shoes she is still holding and studying her bare feet. Suddenly, she seems to come to some sort of decision, as she straightens up again and meets his gaze. “I was really nervous too. That’s why I was being “weird” or whatever. I didn’t want to screw this up, so I was trying to act like Georgie told me to the one and only time I’ve been on a date.”

“Right… and this,” he gestures to her get-up, “is Georgie’s work too?”

She groans softly and reaches up to unpin the hairstyle he’s pretty much ruined now. “She said it was a bad idea. I suppose I should have listened to her.”

He rushes to clarify. “You don’t look bad! You just seem a little uncomfortable and I don’t want that. I feel like we reached a level of comfort together when we were dating in my mind and developing our friendship in yours, and I don’t want to lose that now that we’re “officially” dating. I don’t need you to look or act any different than you normally would, because I like normal you.”

“Despite my abnormality?”

He opens his mouth to contradict her, but the smirk dancing on her lips clarifies the teasing nature of the question and he chuckles instead. “If anything, it’s  _ because  _ of your abnormality. Normal is overrated. Speaking of which,” he turns back toward the restaurant, “I’m going to go back in there and inform them all politely but firmly that you are my girlfriend, that I am thrilled about it, and that if any of them-”

“OR,” she interrupts loudly, and he turns to see her heading in the other direction, her hair down now and her heels in hand, holding out the other for him to take, “we could just go back to your place and raid your café for dessert?”

She smirks as he nearly trips over his feet in his haste to take her hand. “Yeah, I like your plan better.”

“First though- if you’re sure you don’t mind- I think I’d like to stop off at home and change.”

He tugs her into him by their clasped hands and tilts her head up to press a kiss to her lips gently. “I certainly don’t mind. I’ve missed your laugh and I genuinely don’t think that dress allows for it.”

She looks down. “I thought you didn’t like my laugh?”

He tilts her head back up. “Like most things about you, it took me a bit to get used to, but now that I have, I can't imagine living without it.”

She blushes and impulsively jumps up to kiss him again. Before he can deepen it though, she pulls away and tugs him by the hand into an even brisker pace. “Hurry up, then. I really hope you have some of that torte left from that party for Madeleine.”

“I actually saved some just for you, since you seemed to have a fondness for it.”

She stops for a moment and beams at him, before she drags him off again, fairly jogging back towards the square, and he laughs aloud even as he stumbles to keep up with her, and thinks that maybe he’ll be able to do this after all.


End file.
